


My Past Haunts Me

by Breadyboyo



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adopted Children, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Best Friends, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Parents Maggie & Wentworth Tozier, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Laboratories, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scared Richie Tozier, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25632991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breadyboyo/pseuds/Breadyboyo
Summary: Richard Evans' life is that of pain and sufferingTested on and tortured at the tender age of 5, he breaks and snaps after years stuck in such a horrible place - unleashing chaos throughout the laboratory and those in it. When he comes to, he sees the death and destruction that he left in his wake, and breaks down. An intern Maggie Tozier finds the broken boy - picking him up and cradling him into her arms.Richie Tozier forgets about himself and tries to lead a normal, happy life. Memories of yonder return and he must learn to accept the fact that the past doesn't leave so easily.This fic is finally being rewritten under the name 'The Secrets We Hide'!Find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988193
Relationships: Maggie Tozier & Richie Tozier
Comments: 20
Kudos: 15





	1. Progression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Your local Bread is back with their shenanigans. Hope you enjoy the fic! While updates are bound to be sporadic, I _am_ aiming for a chapter release roughly every week. This might change, depending on my situation, but that's what I'm aiming for. That being said, I do hope you stay to see the fic to the end.

**Evans, Richard - 5**

Richie was crying - tears dropping from his face onto his shirt. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know where Mom and Dad were. He doesn’t know who these men in black suits were. The only thing he knew was that he was scared. Hearing the truck skid against the dirt and stopping to a halt, he raises his head - only to be met with a bag going over his face. He tries to resist - thrashing and pulling away from whoever's grip he was in. When a prickle is felt against his skin, he loses all his energy - slumping into the person’s arm. His last feeling before consciousness drifts away is of fear.

When he comes to, he’s lying in a white bed in a white room - no sign of anyone or anything except him and the very bed he was lying in. He notices that his clothes are gone - replaced with a plain white tee and a set of white pants. Going to stand up, he feels an electrical shock course through his body. He wails at the feeling as he falls back to the bed - an all-encompassing pain still lingering in his right arm.

“Richard Evans. Age 5,” He hears a voice say - garbled and messy, but audible - as if it came from an old radio. “Do not leave the bed. Failure in complying will result in punishment.”

His lack of vocabulary prevents him from understanding much; hearing only ‘...Do not leave your bed…’ and ‘...punishment’. He doesn’t understand - why he can’t leave. He wants to find Mom or Dad. He wants to go back home. He wants to leave this scary room. Going to stand up again, he can feel his entire body seethe with pain as another shock courses through him. This time he physically recoils - tears flowing down his cheek as he continues to shrill.

When he’s done crying his eyes, he hears a clicking noise behind him. He whips his head around and spots two people, both of them in large yellow suits. They approach his bed creepily, looking as if he was gonna attack them at any moment. When they reach the foot of his bed, one of them holds him down onto the bed as the other pulls out a syringe. His eyes go wide as he realizes what these people were gonna do.

“Please! No!” Richard yells, writhing and squirming under the man’s grasp - trying to escape - as the needle is injected into one of his arms. He suddenly feels extremely tired. He stops resisting as the man lets go of him - looking satisfied.

“Let’s go.” Richard hears the man mutter out to the other man, leaving him in the room all by himself. Consciousness slips away from his as he falls asleep.

**Evans, Richard - 6**

Tests. The people in black suits tell him he needs to do the tests or they’ll have to punish him. He doesn’t like the way those electrical shocks burned his skin - so he does them. He wakes up, he follows the men in suits to whatever room they gestured to, and he does these tests; he continues to do them even if he doesn’t like them.

**Evans, Richard - 7**

Richard was lying in bed - fatigued from all the tests he’d done today. Hearing the sound of a door open behind him, he whips his head to a woman holding a tray of food. He’s familiar with the lady, having seen them every day delivering food to his room. She approaches him with no fear or wariness whatsoever - a stark contrast compared to every other person that’s entered this room. Handing the young boy a tray of food, she ruffles his hair - a gesture that surprises him. When she goes to leave, he catches her arm - stopping her. 

“What’s your name?” Richard asks, curious.

She smiles. “Maggie. Maggie Tozier.”

He lets her arm go and she gives him a quick hug before leaving. Once again, he’s alone in this quiet and bare room.

**Evans, Richard - 8**

He’s in a room, 3 glass bottles stood in front of him.

“Richard Evans, your task today is to break those glass bottles with your psychic abilities. Failure to comply will result in punishment through electrical shock.” The voice he’s come to recognize and _hate_ says to him.

He points his hand towards one of the bottles and tries cracking it - to no avail. A shock courses through him as he keels over in pain. 

He tries again. Nothing happens.

_Shock._

He tries again. The bottles refused to crack.

_Shock._

He’s desperate to make it stop. He points his hand once more at the bottles - they crack, then they shatter. Letting out a happy noise, he falls to the ground - the pain proving too much for the 8-year-old. He hears the faint noise of a door opening before he promptly passes out. His dreams consist of images of his parents; parents whose faces are a blur in his mind; parents whose names are on the tip of his tongue; parents whose touch and love and voice he misses so dearly, despite not remembering how they felt or sounded like anymore

**Evans, Richard - 9**

He’s sitting in his room, crying. He’s so sick and tired. Every day was always the same.

Wake up, do tests, fail, get punished, try until he succeeds, go to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

It was so tiring; hopeless; pathetic. He wanted to stop it. He wanted to stop everything here and go home and go back to his parents and hug them and sleep next to them even if he doesn't know where home is or who his parents are or where he’d go if he did leave. Everything was so suffocating. He wanted it to stop. He’s gonna make it stop.

 **Evans, Richard - 10**  
He came to, kneeling in a pool of someone’s blood. He scans the room, spotting more corpses littering the floor around him. Some corpses he recognized, some he’s never seen. He doesn’t remember what happened. One moment, he was in his room - and the other, he was towering over a body lying on the floor, blood seeping out of the mangled corpse. Tears escape his eyes as he realizes what he’s done, and he breaks down - a sobbing, shaking mess in a pool of his captor’s blood.

 _“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? To leave?”_ A voice in his head whispered in his ear. _“I did you a favor. Now you can go wherever.”_ The voice laughs.

He hears the door behind him open. Turning around, he sees the lady - _‘Maggie’ he reminds himself_ \- enter the room, a perturbed look on her face; but instead of leaving, or running, or calling him the monster that he is, he rushes over to the crumpled boy and hugs him - rubbing circles into the boy’s back as she whispers something along the lines of _'How could they do this to you.'_ under her breath. The response surprises him. He expected something less… caring. When she gestures him out of the room, he follows; though he doesn’t make it too far. The second they step outside, Richard collapses to the floor, seeming fatigued. The last thing he feels before dipping into unconsciousness is Maggie’s touch against his skin when she goes to pick him up.

**Tozier, Richie - 11**

They’re in Derry, Maine - Maggie tells him. She asked if he wanted to change his name, and proposed the name Richie Tozier. She’s delighted when he accepts. He’s now the son of Maggie Tozier and Wentworth Tozier - Maggie’s husband. He’s happy to be their son, happy to not wake up to the same white room over and over and over again, happy to not be forced into the same routine every day, happy to be able to live his life again.

**Tozier, Richie - 12**

Richie makes friends. Three of them, to be exact. He’s so happy to be able to spend time with them. Stan teaches him about birds - though he’s not interested, he still likes talking to him. Bill stutters often - he says it’s a condition, but that doesn’t stop them from talking with each other anytime they can. His favorite friend is Eddie. He’s shy and timid, but that doesn’t stop the boy from being snarky - making snide remarks at Richie. He loves their constant bickering. When he sees the three of them, his heart flares with joy; he’s grateful for all of his friends.

**Tozier, Richie - 13**

Richie has come a long way in the three years he’s been in Derry. He’s forgotten all about the laboratory, the tests, the torture. The huge gap in memory isn’t missed by him - at all. Everything in his life is great and his friends are there to amplify the feeling, until one night a nightmare wakes him up in the middle of the night. Eyes jolting open and hand slick with cold sweat, he scans the room and sees the floating objects around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for readin'! I do hope you stay tuned for next chapter's release. Until then, I shall dip back into the hole I live (and write in). Goodbye!
> 
> (I have a Discord if anyone's interested in talking to me! My tag is Bread#6010.)


	2. remember?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Bread back here with a serving of a hot and brand-spanking new chapter. I hope ya enjoy!

Richie was standing in an underground complex. Empty halls and corridors seemed to run endlessly - rooms with thick, metal doors that had numbers engraved into them sprinkled the hallways. He stood in front of a giant, metal door - the words ‘Control Room’ engraved onto it. He notices the conspicuous bright red (apple-like) button sitting quietly next to the door. There's a tug in his arms until he reaches for it - pushing down to seek a response.

The metallic door reacts - sliding into the floor and revealing the sight behind it. The entire room was dark, except for a single spot in the middle, sparsely illuminated with a dim, flickering lightbulb. A boy whose face was blurred out of recognition was towering over a corpse - blood slowly leaking from the body onto the floor. His voice dies in his throat as the boy looks up from the corpse, blood-red gems meeting his topaz-tinted ones.

_“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? To leave?”_ The boy whispered - barely audible. _"I did you a favor, now you can leave!”_ Small giggles and laughs spilled from his mouth - devolving into an uncontrollable, maniacal cackle. The boy snapped his fingers, and with that, every light source in the room simultaneously activated. Richie's eyes widen at the horrors that hid behind the cloak of darkness mere moments ago.

Hundreds of bodies laid still - some missing an arm or a leg or a head; pools of blood accompanied the corpses. His stomach turns inside out, and his knees weaken and buckle, causing him to fall to the floor as blood pools slowly crawled to him.

The boy raised his hand, and following the gesture were the bodies - lifting up into the air by some malevolent source. With a snap of the fingers, they all combust into smoke and the pools of blood drain in on themselves. The room was spotless - no trace of dirt, grime, or death seen.

The boy tapped his foot onto the now squeaky-clean floor, causing the ground beneath Richie to crack and crumble. He falls into the abyss below, a blurry blood-splattered face looking down on him as he continued to fall.

Richie’s eyes jolt open as he wakes - breath ragged and hands slick with cold sweat. Reaching for his glasses, he puts them on and sees it:

Furniture was floating around him, levitating in the air almost magically. A shrill scream erupts from his throat, and the furniture that had been floating prior fell to the ground carelessly. Loud footsteps were heard outside his room before his door slammed open.

"Richie, what happened?” Maggie asked, stepping toward his son's bed and taking a seat next to him.

Richie pauses, looking away before answering. “I-I just had a nightmare, mom. I-It’s fine.”

Her eyes betrayed her feeling of disbelief. "Alright, if you say so, sweetie. Good night, okay?"

"Good night." he nods at her as she leaves.

* * *

Eddie knew something was wrong the moment his friend came through the front door. The normally energetic and cheerful boy arrived looking worse for wear; the disheveled state his hair was in and the way deep bags were planted beneath his dark amber eyes bothered him in a way he couldn’t put his finger on, and he wasn’t the only one to notice. Bill and Stan had also noticed that something had to be bothering their friend, and they agreed to ask him about his situation after school.

The rest of the day comes and goes without a hitch, though classes seemed to stretch on for longer than Eddie would like. When the final bell signaling school’s end rings, he quickly packs up his textbooks and makes a break for the entrance - planning to meet up with the others before their friend leaves the school. Instead of that, he accidentally crashes into his Richie - having been occupied with assorting his locker before a small bundle knocked the wind out of him.

“E-Eddie?” Richie sputters out, surprised. “Why were you in such a rush?”

He’s reluctant to answer, seeing as the plan was to confront their friend together, but he ultimately decides that the earlier - the better.

“Me and the others were going to meet you after school, Richie,” Eddie explains. “We’re worried about you. You came in looking like…” He gestures at his friend. “...you didn’t get a wink of sleep yesterday.”

He spots the way Richie fiddled with the strap of his backpack before answering. “That? I’ve just been getting some headaches since…” There’s an audible pause, almost as if the boy had just stopped himself from saying something wrong. “...a few days ago.”

“Have you tried getting some Ibuprofen? Here I think I have som-” Eddie reaches for his fanny pack before being cut off by the boy.

“Yeah, Eds. I’ve been using them. They don’t help much, though.”

Eddie is alarmed at the response. “Then have you tried getting a diagnosis? Maybe it’s a tumor in your brain- you need to get it checked out before it gets danger-”

“I’m fine, Eds!” Richie yells louder than he should. “It’s just a few migraines, it’ll pass.” He takes a deep breath, calming himself.

Eddie is flabbergasted at the unusually aggressive response from his friend. Wanting to argue, but realizing it’ll only result in more conflict - he backs off. “If you’re sure..” Eddie sighs. “..then fine. But if you feel sick at all- call me, alright?” Richie nods before returning to busy himself his locker.

“See ya, Eds,” Richie says nonchalantly.

“See you later, Rich."

* * *

Richie's eyes open to the recognizable washed-out room. Catching sight of a boy sitting on a bed, he approaches with wary steps - whispers and mutters reaching his ears as he closes in. He's towering over the boy now, his hair covering his eyes and face except for his lip, that of which is a quivering mess.

He reaches out, only to be stopped by the boy's hand. The boy looks up, and eyes that mirror his own look back - except they're leaking red until the entire sclera is almost as red as the marks he's leaving on Richie's hand.

Opening his mouth, he whispers a word that is drenched in hostile intent; fear slithers down Richie's spine.

" _Leave._ "

The grip formerly on his wrist now moves to his neck - squeezing his wind box tightly as he's lifted into the air. Dark spots appear at the edge of his vision as his breathing starts to fail him. The last thing he sees before unconsciousness slips away from him is an angry scowl accompanied by the boy's blood-red eyes.

* * *

*

Classes seemed to linger on for longer than they should have, much to his chagrin. When the bell of their last class rings, he carelessly shoves today’s learning material into his bag and makes a beeline for the school exit. Or at least, that was the plan.

Finding himself being barred from the exit that he desperately wants, by his two best friends nonetheless, an inkling of impatience makes itself present.

“Can I use the exit?” Richie said, annoyance in his voice as he attempts to slip through a small crack between the barrier the two boys made.

The two refused to budge. “Richie…” Bill started, looking him in the eye. “E-Eddie t-tuh-told us you w-w-weren’t feeling well yesterday. Y-You even yelled at him.”

The palms at his side curled into fists at the ridiculous statement. “I yelled. So what?” Richie asked, giving them a scowl and a frown.

“You d-don’t usually yell, e-e-especially not at Eddie.” Bill looks to the floor before returning to meet his eyes. “W-What’s wrong, Richie?”

“Nothing is wrong. I already told Eddie this.”

“Bullshit, Richie. If nothing is wrong then why are you in such a shitty mood?” Stan chimes in, accompanied by an accusive tone.

At that moment, his temper seemed to boil out of control. “Nothing is fucking wrong!” He yelled loudly, catching the attention of nearby students. The three don’t notice the way the lockers behind Richie slammed open at the outburst. The two of them visibly recoil at the raised voice - shocked at the abnormal reaction of the normally calm and cheery demeanor of their friend. Richie shoves the two out of the way, running to the bike racks without looking back. Bill tries calling out to him - only to be stopped by Stan; the only reason for his intervention being a shake of his head.

* * *

*

Finding himself in the Barrens wanting to be alone, he walks across the forest - kicking a few poor, unsuspecting rocks out of the way. 

“Stupid Bill and Stan…” He mutters under his breath, continuing to walk off his anger. He’s ready to finally leave when he catches a glimpse of something - a cloud. His curiosity gets the better of him as he follows it deeper and deeper into the forest. The cloud stops in front of a towering oak tree - disappearing into thin air. He notices the glint of the sun reflecting off of something in the pile of leaves in front of him.

Kneeling down, he brushes away the dried and crumpled leaves. His fingers make contact with a metallic material and his curiosity ramps up higher. He brushes every single leaf away, and finally, he sees it.

A rusty, metallic trapdoor.

He pulls with as much force as he can muster; the door is pulled clean off its hinges. The sunlight illuminates the otherwise would be dark room and there's an inaudible voice whispering in the back of his head as he starts to descend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I've got the next chapter already in the works, so expect an update soon-ish. See ya next time!


	3. hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you order some plot? Here it is, Chapter 3 - served flaming hot on a plate of mystery.
> 
> (Please read the end notes for an update on my future update schedule.

There’s a ‘thud’ noise as he sloppily lands on the metallic floor. Picking himself up, he brushes the dirt off his pants and scans the area. The room was old - plants from the outside invading into the metal-lined room and cobwebs decorating the corners. The only light source being the sunlight seeping from the trapdoor he entered with, he looks for a lightswitch - grasping the walls and praying he doesn’t touch any unwanted insects like spiders. When he feels the vague shape of a button in his palm, he presses down on it.

The lights in the room, as well as the adjacent hallways, flickers on and off - struggling to stay alight. When the light bulbs finally gathered enough power to stay activated, he walked towards the now lit hallway - metal doors sprinkling the corridors here and there. Continuing to walk, an air of grief and sorrow following him with every step he takes, he stops in front of a room.

‘Control Room’

Those two words were ingrained on the thick metal door. His hand is slick with cold sweat when he spots a button to the side. The urge to press it is overwhelming. Gathering his courage and taking a deep breath, he presses his palm against the button.

There’s a pause before the door hisses - sliding down into the floor. It stops moving, only halfway open. Realizing there was enough space for him, he climbs over the door and wedges through the opening. The room is dark, cold, and bleak - he realizes he has no chance of finding a light switch of any kind in such darkness.

_The boy snapped his fingers, activating every light source in the room._

Richie snaps his finger, mimicking the action he had seen in his dreams. The room lights in its entirety as a response.

There’s nothing in the room. No corpses, no blood, no anything. Just him and emptiness. A frown creeps up his face as he goes to leave the room. He feels himself being tugged away the moment he sets foot outside - an otherworldly force guiding him somewhere. Following the presence, he reaches a conspicuous room - door hanging open. He steps inside, and the feeling of grief and sorrow assault his senses. The door behind him shuts close as his knees buckle and he falls to the tile floor.

The light turns on seemingly out of nowhere and all he can see is white. White walls, white roofs, white floors. The room is empty, bar a single bed - one that he recognizes and yet unfamiliar with. His eyes go wide as he’s assaulted with memories of a boy with his face lying in the very same bed he’s looking at. Memories of the same boy - burns covering his limbs top to bottom. Everything is too much for him to bear, and he collapses - unceremoniously falling to the ground.

* * *

Maggie Tozier was pacing around her bedroom, distress etched into her face. Richie hadn’t arrived home today. She assumed he had gone to stay at one of his friend’s house, but the lack of communication from the boy planted a seed of worry in her mind.

She calls every single one of Richie’s friends, wanting to confirm if he indeed was staying over at any of their houses. She gets the same response from all three: ‘Richie’s not here.’

“Where could he have gone…” Maggie mutters to herself, lost in deep thought. She remembers a few nights earlier. Richie had woken up screaming, he claimed to have been startled by a nightmare, but when she looked into his eyes - guilt had been present. He was lying.  
What sort of nightmare he could have had perplexed her. Richie had always been a happy, cheerful, and merry bundle ever since they left that dreaded laboratory.

_The laboratory._

Terror slithers up the mother’s spine as she realizes where he could’ve gone. Grabbing her keys, an unlabeled bottle, and a flashlight with spare batteries - she gets in her Volkswagen and steps on the pedal.

* * *

Richie was standing behind a glass pane peeking into a white room - empty except for three glass bottles and a child standing across them. The boy looks up to a megaphone attached to the wall - listening to what it’s saying. The voice is muffled enough that he can’t hear it from where he was. The boy stares intently at a bottle as he points his palms towards it. Nothing happens. He recoils before trying again. Nothing happens.

The boy falls to the ground as his knees buckle from a force Richie can’t see or hear. The boy’s attempts all end in failure - his face contorting to that of pain and agony with each failed attempt. The boy’s dark brown eyes transition into a deep shade of red; he points his palm towards one of the bottles - they crack, then shatter. Face changing to that of glee, the boy falls to the ground - eyes reverting to their normal brown shade before he loses consciousness.

The pane of glass that had divided him and the room prior vibrates for a moment before completely shattering - pieces flying everywhere, some cutting his skin. Flinching at the sting, he approaches to collapsed figure on the floor. A silhouette materializes in the corner of his vision - swooping past him and standing over the lying boy.

The figure has a face that mirrors his own, albeit younger.

“Who are you?” Richie hears the three words exit his mouth.

Silence is the only response he gets. The boy kneels to the lying body - ruffling the other’s hair comfortingly and cupping his cheek softly.

“I said, who are you?” Richie asks once more, almost a yell.

Crimson eyes meet his own as two words leave the boy’s mouth, leaving him quivering in place - eyes wide and blood turned cold.

“I’m you.”

His world crashes down on him as his eyes widen. A shrill scream claws out his throat..

* * *

Maggie Tozier stopped to a clearing in the forest. Exiting her car, she notices the disheveled pile of leaves she planted years ago. Her worries are confirmed when the trapdoor is gaping open - light seeping out from inside. She holds her flashlight tight as she descends back into her old hell.

She can feel the old and preserved air hit her skin when she sets foot into the underground building. The entire place is shoddily lit - the power barely able to withstand the heavy load it’s currently under. She walks into the hallway, looking for any trace of someone - her son - being recently here - to no avail. A shrill shriek resonates throughout the corridors and hits her ears. Breaking into a sprint, she follows the direction the noise came from, the occasional long sob and pained whimper guiding her through the maze that is the laboratory.

Coming to a stop, she’s outside a room with the number ‘01’ inscribed onto the door - Richie’s old room. Taking a nervous gulp, she pushes the door’s button. It hisses open, revealing the inside.

Richie is on the ground, clutching at his stomach - squirming and writhing in pain. Spotting her son in such a state, she rushes over and kneels to the boy, picking him up. Her eyes meet his, and instead of the shade of amber looking back at her, there’s only blood-red.

Richie pushes her away with more force than a child should use against their mother. She tries calling out to him, but the only response she gets is a low growl. Reaching to her pockets, she pulls out the unlabeled bottle and takes out a singular pill and approaches his son. Towering over the writhing mass, she kneels to him and pushes the pill into his lips - hoping he swallows.

When she hears a gulp slide down his throat, the response is spontaneous. His eyes shift to his regular brown shade before they close tiredly. His body limps - all energy having left his body, and she goes to scoop the boy up into her caring arms. She walks past the empty hallways and doesn’t notice the silhouette of a young boy far behind her as she climbs up the ladder.

Getting into her Volkswagen, she lies down her son on the back seat before seating herself on the driver’s seat - foot stomping on the pedal as she rushes to leave this bad memory behind.

* * *

Richie hadn’t come to school today. Neither he nor Bill and Stan had caught sight of the boy on the way to school, or even at school. He remembers yesterday - Mrs. Tozier had called him - distress present with every word she muttered through the phone call. The combination of the tone of her voice, as well as the topic of Richie’s whereabouts, had worried him. Phoning his other two only friends - he gets the same response that he had just given Richie’s mom. 

“He’s not here.”

This only served to agitate his nerves, and the urge to go out there and find where Richie was itched at his skin like a rash from poison ivy. Deciding against it, he attempts to sleep the knot occupying his stomach away. Though now, he can feel it reforming again.

He makes a mental note to visit Richie’s house today to check if he was simply absent from being sick. Pulling out his textbook and spreading them across his table, the principal walks into his classroom - surprising the entire class. Whispers and ‘shush’ noises spread across the class as the principal prepares to make an announcement.

“As Richie Tozier’s classmates, the lot of you deserve to know what has happened to our dear student. This morning, Maggie Tozier had reported that Richie is currently residing in a hospital. The only details on why that is are that his mother had found him unconscious in the forest. Thus, for the next few days, Richie will be absent from classes for the following days as he recovers. Please send Mrs. Tozier your condolences if you see her.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide at the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, thanks for reading the entire chapter! As you know, summer is coming to an end - and that means my school will be starting back up again. The only reason I've been able to update so frequently is because of all the free time I've had. School will be changing that, unfortunately. For the 7 next days I have summer, I'll still be working hard on the next chapters and releasing them as soon as they're done. 
> 
> But after next week, I'll be putting place a schedule for updates. One update a week. Even if I finish a chapter earlier than that, I will still post the chapter only after a week since the last update has gone by. This should give me enough time to write the next chapter with the time given from the weekly cooldown. I do hope you're not too disappointed. Well, that's all there is for today. I'll see you lovelies soon!


	4. acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD IT HAS BEEN A WHILEEE. I'm so sorry I took THIS long to release an update. School preparations have been rough, and some family problems popped up which gave me very little time to write, and when I did have time to write, I could only write so much before I lost motivation. But I'm back! And I bring you another chapter! I hope you enjoy!

There’s a constant beeping beside Richie as he wakes up. Opening his eyes, he’s met with a blurry mess of a room - blobs of color decorating here and there. He reaches for his glasses where he normally puts them, only to be greeted with thin air.

Sounds of a shoe tapping against a tile floor are heard outside his door before it opens, revealing a woman in a neat white dress with hair tied back in a bun. She mumbles something along the line of ‘you’re awake’ before unceremoniously leaving, closing the door almost as fast as she had opened it.

Not long after, increasingly loud footsteps hit his ear before the door promptly opens - a disheveled Maggie Tozier behind it. Her eyes widen at the sight of her awake son, and she clumsily rushes over to his bedside.

Pulling him into a hug, she brushes his dirty, unkempt hair away from his tired face. She pulls away and reaches into her bag, pulling out a pair of Richie’s glasses and sliding them on. The frames slot perfectly in place - as if they’re a part of Richie - and the room turns from a blurry mess to a detailed hospital ward.

He spots a bouquet of yellow, sunflower-like daisies intertwined in-between bold, pink peonies. His mother catches the look and simply says, “Your friends got them for you.”

Reaching for the bundle, he finds a bright blue card tangled within the flowers with the words ‘Get Well Soon!’ printed in the front. He opens it, and is greeted with a note written with such care and attention, it must have been from Stanley Uris himself.

_Get well soon, Richie!_  
_\- The Losers Club_

Attached to the note was a piece of his favorite candy. He pops the treat in his mouth, and the sweetness floods his taste buds as the thought of his friends flood his chest with warmth. Putting the bundle of flowers back into its place, his head is met with a pulsating pain as he attempts to remember the situation that led him here. His breathing slows down as his eyes start to droop.

“I’m tired,” Richie slurred as his mother layed him back down. His consciousness drifts back and forth - like a ship lost at sea - and he finally closes his eyes, letting sleep consume him.

* * *

It had been a week since Richie’s admittance to the hospital, and he’s finally being discharged. The frequent visits from his friends and parents had made the stay tolerable, but more than anything, he wanted to be back home. So here he was, in his mother’s Volkswagen, looking out the window and staring at houses as the car drove by, slowly reaching their own house.

He spots a peculiar house lying conspicuously as they pass 29th Neibolt Street. Time seemed to slow down as he drank in the details of the broken down abode.

Walls dirty with grime and dust from years of abandonment, roof seemingly close to collapsing from the weight of nature, windows shattered and cracked - some boarded up with old wooden blanks; the house practically screamed of the neglect it had suffered. A movement catches his eye, and he notices that the front door was wide open - a contrast to it’s closed and likely locked status it had been in moments ago.

As their car passed the eerie dwelling, a knot in his stomach he wasn’t aware of seemed to ease. The familiar sky-blue painted house came into view before they finally made a stop outside. Richie exits the car as Maggie pulls out her keys and the two of them walk towards the front door. She slots a key in, and a ‘click’ sound is heard before the door is blown open by an eager Richie.

He’s greeted with a dark living room, which doesn’t stay like so for long. Lights flare on, revealing an amply white room - barren of anything except a bed. His eyes widen as the image is quickly replaced with his normal, cream-tinted living room, and he’s left standing still attempting to take the image in. Maggie spots the horrified expression on his son’s face and is quick to shake him out of the state.

“Richie, baby. Are you- are you okay?” she said, kneeling down and cupping his cheeks with her palm.

“I saw a white room, Maggie. I k-keep seeing it. In my dreams. I s-saw it just now too.” he said, a panicked expression creeping up his face. “Why do I keep seeing it, Maggie? Why do I-” Richie’s rant is cut off by Maggie’s arms squeezing him tightly - one of them reaching to his hair to brush it comfortingly.

The two share a quiet, yet comforting silence in each other’s embrace - the only sounds being the soft whimpers as his tears are shed onto Maggie’s dress. She pulls away and wipes the dried tear streaks off his son’s cheeks before carefully lifting him up and onto her back. 

Climbing up the stairs and into Richie’s room, she sits him down onto bed - surrounded with posters and figurines and toys and memorabilia he’s collected from the past year or so.

“Richie, you-” A hesitant pause, “you deserve to know.” Maggie said, a solemn expression on her face. So she explained. Explained how he wasn’t their actual biological son, explained how people experimented on him and tortured him because he was special - different, explained how he escaped from them and how Maggie took her in as her son, explained how he forgot everything as he got older - growing up thinking he had a normal, albeit fuzzy childhood. 

Richie donned a horrified expression the entire time, and by the end, he was looking as if he would shatter in on himself because everything he knew was false. Bile was steadily rising to his throat, and his palms began to sweat profusely.

He wasn’t normal like Maggie, or his friends, or everyone else. He was a freak of nature, and the thought sends him spiraling down into a frenzy of ragged breaths accompanied by a strong urge to heave out this morning’s breakfast. Panic was spreading through his veins - consuming him in grief and sorrow, and he felt as if he might choke and die from the lack of air. His eyes dart around the room, and he catches sight of his mother’s worry-tinged eyes.

“Richie, I want you to know that you’re still my son. It doesn’t matter where you came from, I still love you as my son.” Maggie said - squeezing his hand and planting a firm, loving kiss on his cheek. Feeling his breathing regulate, he wipes away the tears and nods. Maggie loves him, even if he isn’t normal; that thought calms him down.

“You want some ice cream?” She asked with a smile - he returns it with a nod. They head down to the kitchen, hand-in-hand. For once, he feels peace.

* * *

Statistics and numbers flew across a screen as bold, red words flashed across it - catching the attention of the white coat-wearing man behind the monitor

**POSSIBLE THREAT DETECTED**

**SOURCE: DERRY, MAINE**

**INSPECTION ADVISED**

A curious frown creeps up the man’s face as he reaches into his pocket - pulling out a telephone. He punches in the number and puts the device to his ear. The beeping stops and is replaced with silence.

“Sir? The computer found something. It’s coming from Derry- a town in Maine.” The man said.

“Site 42? The project there got canceled, why would it detect something there?” a voice responded, static tangled with the words.

“I don’t know. Do you want to send some agents there?”

There’s a long moment of silence - of consideration - before a response is heard.

“Send two. Instruct them to see if something is actually there. I do not want to waste manpower on a false alarm.”

“Understood,” he said, closing the call. Diverting his attention back to the monitor, he got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that was tiring. I wasn't happy with how long this chapter took, so I didn't take too long to revise it. I probably could've spent more time revising scenes and such some more, but I felt bad making y'all wait for so long. Anywaysss, _hopefully_ I won't take as long to release the next update.


	5. preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iVETH returned! Again, sorry this took so long. Id LOVE to be able to update weekly, but with how messy my schedule is and how much homework stacks throughout the week, I need to begrudgingly leave some time to do it. I do hope you enjoy the chapter, though!

Richie’s eyes open to the comforting sky-blue hue of his house. Except he’s not looking at his house, but instead, at the sky. His body quickly jolts awake at the unfamiliarity. He scans his surroundings - searching for something that he can recognize.

His eyes fall onto the oddly familiar house with a green that matches the grass all around him. White picket fences surrounded the square-like space. But most notably, a child - one that couldn’t have been older than 5 years old - was at the far end of the backyard, rocking back and forth on a rusted, cherry-red swingset with the biggest smile he’s ever seen.

His eyes go dinner-plate wide as he sees the boy’s face.

It’s his own, but younger. His eyes start to sting, and he goes to touch his face - noticing the mysterious tears leaking from his eyes. He starts trudging past the tall grass, then he’s picking up the speed to a jog, then he starts breaking into a sprint. There’s a squeeze in his chest as he continues running - the action expending more and more oxygen than his lungs can handle.

He comes to a stop in front of the boy. Large topaz gems that seemed to reflect his own scanned his figure; there’s no caution, wary, or fear that’s present in the boy’s eyes - only mild curiosity that’s soon replaced with a smile as the boy gestured to an empty swing next to him with expectant eyes looking up at him.

Walking over, he seats himself before throttling his legs off the ground and giving the swing a push. The boy follows suit, and not long after, both of them have built enough speed to let the swing set do its job.

Spring wind brushes past his face as he turned to his side - studying the boy’s features. Young-him was clad in small red shorts that barely covered his thighs and a white shirt with a cartoon character of some sort pictured on the front. Even at a young age, it seems his comically large coke-bottle glasses were still present in his face; Richie snorts.

The boy turns around at the sound, looking up and down at Richie before letting out a giggle. Richie smiles at the look of joy on the boy’s face.

Dandelion petals fly in the wind past the two beaming boys as they swung back and forth.

* * *

Richie was mindlessly shoving the now soggy cereal into his mouth. He can hear Maggie and Wentoworth’s daily musings, but they seem like a buzz in his ears as his thoughts drift somewhere else - replaying last night’s scene.

_Richie sits on his bed looking oddly calm for someone who had his furniture float around him - waving around in the air as if a ghost had taken to living in them. ___

__Moonlight shined past his window and landed on his particularly thoughtful expression. A thought popped in his head as he raised his hand forward ____

____Pointing his fingers at the suspended-in-air table, he closes his eyes and thought of the table switching from being as light as a feather to as heavy as - well, a table. Not long after a loud thud noise screeched in front of him and he tugged his eyes open - spotting the now grounded table._ _ _ _

___A light frown tugs at his face as he recalls the scene. Richie wanted to tell Maggie - he always tells Maggie everything - but this wasn’t something to she needed to know._ _ _

___Sneaking a glance to Maggie and away from his bowl of cereal-milk liquid, he sees her warm smile as she spoke to Wentworth about something - possibly the happenings in his job. She looked happy - peaceful._ _ _

____Richie’s hand hovers above the frame - the previous momentum stopped by an inkling of hesitation forming in his stomach. Did he want this? Would Maggie be happy knowing this? Deciding not, he withdraws his hand away from the door and into his pockets - a frown on his face as he quietly trudged back into his room._ _ _ _

___Richie was stirring his spoon in his now cold cereal milk amalgamation when Maggie called his name._ _ _

___“Richie, are you okay?” she asked, eyes staring into his as Wentworth took his eyes off his newspaper - mirroring her actions._ _ _

___Guilt prickled at the back of his neck as he nodded and answered with a half-truth. “Yeah, I’m fine, mom. Just thinking about stuff.”_ _ _

___“Alright, sweetie,” she said with a smile, putting a spoon of oatmeal into her mouth. “Eddie called this morning, he was wondering if you wanted to hang out with him, Bill, and Stan today.”_ _ _

___The mention of Richie’s friends catches his attention, and not long after, he’s asking for details._ _ _

___“Of course you can go, honey. Just be careful, alright?” Richie’s head starts to ache with how much he had nodded. Pushing back his chair and standing up, he strapped his shoes on and went out the door - seating himself on his bike and before pedaling away to one of the Loser’s house._ _ _

___He bikes past a lavish royal-blue corvette on the way - the vehicle driving the opposite direction of his._ _ _

* * *

___“D, are you there? Over.”_ _ _

___Digby pulls the walkie-talkie off his belt and put it against his mouth. ”I’m standing in front of the site right now. I’ll give an update after I inspect. Over.”_ _ _

___“Copy. Just checked location 2, nothing interesting. I’m heading over to location 1. I’ll give an update after I inspect, as well. Over.” The static-sounding voice on the other side responded._ _ _

___“Copy, F. Over._ _ _

___Digby eyes the broken-open hinges of the now open trapdoor and the nearby tire marks - dry leaves sprawled across the lines. Someone had definitely been here. Maybe this operation will be entertaining after all._ _ _

* * *

___Felix pocketed the walkie talkie with a frown. Inhaling another huff of smoke, he dropped the cigarette to the concrete sidewalk - squashing it under the heel of his boot. He walked back to his car - spinning his keys around his finger as he looked back to Derry High School._ _ _

___The visit was fruitless - nothing out of the ordinary. Well, that just leaves another place for him to check before his duties are done. Maybe then he can go back to lounging._ _ _

___Slotting his keys in and revving up the engine - crisp autumn air is quickly replaced with toxic exhaust fumes from his corvette. With a step on the gas, he’s out of the parking lot and into the streets.  
Driving past the neighborhood, his gaze falls upon an unassuming sky-blue painted house. He pulled out the document and confirmed he was where he needed to be. Changing into his disguise, he left the car and locked it with a click of a button. Taking a step onto the fresh-cut grass, he strides over to the front door._ _ _

___Two knocks are all it takes before footsteps shuffle around from the other side. The door promptly opens, revealing a light-toned woman clad in a pink sunflower-decorated blouse with hair tied back in a messy, morning bun._ _ _

___“Hello, Madam. My name is James Smith. I’ve got a call there might be an insect problem around this neighborhood? I’m from Derry Pest Control.” he pulls out the fake id-card from his uniform pocket. “May I have your name?”_ _ _

___“It’s Maggie Tozier,” she said with a smile._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ill be back with a more fluff-intensive chapter soon. just some original loser gang shenanigans. ill see you then!


	6. the calm before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loser shenanigans ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIIHIHI. sorry its been like what, two weeks-ish since my last update? I've been procrastination on this chapter mostly because I wrote myself into a wall at the start. but after a bit of a break, I was able to get through it. hope you enjoy, and till next time!

The screeching noise of a wheel skidding against concrete rang throughout the neighborhood as Richie stepped on the brakes. With a swift move, he’s off his bike and running up to the front door.

Three knocks in, the door swung inward - giving no time for Richie to react and step back. Eddie was holding the door open; A wary scowl turned into a smile as he realized who the person in front of him was.

“Richie!” Eddie exclaimed, “You’re out of the hospital!”

“Astute observation, Sir Spaghetti.” Richie threw his head back in a fit of laughter.

Redness crept up Eddie’s lower cheek at the comment. Not long after, the two have returned to their normal routine of obscene jokes and playful punches to the shoulder. Their bickering filled the air with levity as they rode to Stan’s house.

“Hey, so, why were you at the hospital, anyway?” Eddie asked after they round a corner, breaking the silence. Panic bubbled under his skin as he considered what to say in response. 

“Ah, well, you know how clumsy I can be, Eds. I fell a few set of stairs, I got distracted by the image of Mrs. K's screaming when I went down on her last ni-”

“Ugh, beep-beep, asshole!” Eddie yelled, hitting a cackling Richie in the shoulder. There’s a moment of silence between them as they neared Stan’s house.

When they reach their friend’s front yard, autumn leaves have been piled in spots all around the grass. Richie hopped off his bike - Eddie following right behind - and strode to the front door.

Just like last time, with a few knocks, a few thumps get louder and louder - approaching the door. A boy clad in a stuffy checkered vest with a mop of curls opened the door. “Good to see ya, Stan-the-Man!” Richie said, a smile on his face as he went in for a stifling hug.

“Yeah, yeah. Good to see you too, Trashmouth.” Stan said back, giving him a few pats on the head before pulling away. Spotting the shorter boy behind Richie, he gave him a wave; Eddie waved back.

The three got back on the road - Bill’s house being their next destination. Conversations about the upcoming school term and their plans filled the quiet air alongside autumn breezes that blew often.

Their planned surprise arrival at the Denbrough house was thwarted when they saw the two brothers already outside. As they got closer, Bill seemed to notice and recognize the small group of people, waving them over.

“Hey, you guys!” Bill said, running over to the front and crashing into them with a hug. Eddie and Stan let out a quiet groan at the sudden and harsh contact but didn’t try to resist. Richie simply reciprocated the firm embrace.

As they all withdrew, Richie took the time to readjust his crooked glasses. “How ya’ been, Big Bill, me ol’ chap?” he asked, attempting a British accent. Bill rolled his eyes and snorted. “I’ve b-b-been fine, R-Richie. W-What about you?”

“As great as ever, Billiam!” Richie exclaimed, puffing out his chest and posing like some sort of superhero to make a point. “Why don’t we pay a visit to the Arcade today? The king must reclaim his Street Fighter throne, after all.”

Bill opened his mouth ready to respond when his little brother started hopping up and down; Bill’s arm was gripped tightly by the smaller boy’s two hands.

“Bill! You said we would play later!” Georgie said, puppy-dog eyes looking up at Bill as a plea. He looked to his friends before looking back to his little brother - kneeling down and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“M-M-Maybe n-next time, o-kay Georgie? You k-k-know Richie j-just left the h-h-hospital, and h-he wants to h-hang out w-w-with us.”

A dejected look crept up the younger Denbrough’s face - tears threatening to spill from saddened eyes. With a disappointed sigh, he retreated back into his house. Something akin to regret or sadness flashed across Bill’s expression, but it had disappeared as swiftly as it had come.

“Heya, Billiam. You don’t have to come with, y’know?” Richie’s voice pierced the awkward silence between the two parties. “Lil’ Georgie looked pretty sad there. We can hang out some other time.”

Bill looked shocked at the offer. “B-But, Richie. Y-You just c-c-came out of t-the hospital. I t-thought you’d l-l-like to h-h-hang out.”

“Of course I’d love to hang out, Big Bill! But I think your brother would appreciate it more than me.” Richie said, a small smile on his face. “Besides, we can always all hang out some other time.”

Bill looked down as he bit his bottom lip in consideration. He nodded before turning back to his house, giving the three a quick wave and a ‘See you tomorrow!’ before running after his little brother.

Richie snapped around at the sound of someone clearing their throat. An amused Stanley with a shit-eating grin that just screamed ‘That was nice of you’.

Richie hit him in the shoulder before walking to his bike - the two following suit.

* * *

“Oh, how I’ve missed you, old pal.” Richie whispered to himself, looking up to the small establishment with a big neon sign hanging above it flashing the words ‘Arcade’ to lure people in - like a moth to a flame.

“Last one to get in is Eddie's mom’s used tampon!” Richie yelled, sprinting inside and leaving a dust cloud in the spot where he was moments ago. “That’s not funny, asshole!” Eddie yelled after the boy, a scowl on his face at the obscene joke. 

By the time he’s reached the Street Fighter cabinet and inserted a few tokens into the machine, Stan and Eddie have caught up with him - standing behind him and watching as he selected a character.

“You two wanna try going against the king?” Richie asked, turning his head to the two. Both of them shake their heads. “You two are such buzzkills,” Richie said, a pout on his face.

Eddie and Stan both laugh before the laughter is cut off with Richie grabbing Eddie’s hand and pulling him closer to the cabinet. “C’mon, Eds. It’s super easy. Just press these buttons and hit people!” Richie said, pressing a few controls and spinning the joystick around as a demonstration.

Eddie looked like he was going to decline before Richie put on puppy-dog eyes similar to that of Georgie’s. Eddie conceded, letting out a defeated sigh as he stepped closer next to Richie and started to play. Stan stood behind them, laughing whenever Eddie lost by a landslide to Richie.

* * *

Despite the smaller boy’s prior hesitation to participating in the game, he was now playing as if he’d gained some fresh gusto - fueled purely by the want to beat Richie at his own game.

After a while of serious button mashing from both boys - eyes plastered to the screen as they focused on defeating the other - Stan interrupted a match with the clearing of his throat and the pinch at the back of their necks. A yelp from the two of them rang throughout the arcade before they snapped their heads around to the perpetrator.

“I think that’s enough playing for today, you two.” Stan scolded - tone like that of a mother who found her children doing something bad. “Why don’t we get some ice cream?”

“I could go for some ice cream, but Richie’s paying, though.” Eddie said nonchalantly.

Richie recoiled - a look of shock prominent on his face. “Me? Why do _I_ have to pay for it”

“ _Because,_ ” Eddie started, “you roped me into playing with you for about three hours. I could’ve done something productive in those three hours, but I didn’t, so now you owe me.”

“Ughhhhhhh, fine.” Richie groaned, pulling out a five-dollar bill and handing it to Eddie.

“Let’s head out, then?” The two nodded and left the building.

* * *

Felix pulled out a folder that read ‘DERRY CITIZENS’ and flipped over to the names starting with T.

**Tozier:**

**Maggie Tozier**

**Wentworth Tozier**

**Richie Tozier**

He looked over the file of Richie Tozier - paying attention to the age, birthday, and any other information that was available. The sensor reacted strongly when he was inside what had appeared to be a child’s room, with posters of various cartoon shows and music bands plastered all over the walls and dirty, messy clothes strewn all over the floor and everywhere clothes _shouldn’t_ be. From all the pictures and portraits that were hung all over the home, none had been of a child.

Felix groaned in frustration. He’d need to look out for this boy, cause chances are, he had made contact with whatever thing that caused such an influx in energy in this dingy city.

“Well, might as well start looking.” Felix muttered to nobody. Pulling up a map, he spotted an ice cream parlor not too far. Well, kids usually hang out there, and he _could_ go for a cone right about now; two birds with one stone. With that thought, he turned on the car and rode away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> confrontations, confrontations. how will they go, i wonder?
> 
> EDIT 4 hours from posting: I noticed an inconsistency with one of Bill's dialogue lines (him not stuttering at all when talking to Georgie). It has been fixed.


End file.
